


Wandering Wonderer

by seori



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Epilogue, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seori/pseuds/seori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luna deals with life after Hogwarts, and is surprised to find Rolf Scamander far easier and less pleasant to come across than a single Crumple-Horned Snorkack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Dragons and Muddy Patches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k4writer02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/k4writer02/gifts).



Luna has never liked the idea of something being simply _wrong_. She knows she is lucky to have been brought up by a man who sees more than other people – a man who recognises that things hide, and sometimes require a second look, and sometimes can't be seen at all.

It is difficult, however, for her to see the reasoning behind Mrs Weasley sending Ginny to Romania to cool off, because all Romania is doing is making Ginny angrier and angrier.

It is especially difficult for her to think of Mrs Weasley as being wrong. For a moment, sometimes, when the older woman wraps her arms around Luna, Luna will shut her eyes and pretend that she is being hugged by her own mother, who has not hugged Luna for almost ten years.

She wonders if Harry does the same; Harry whose mother hardly got to hug him at all.

Harry is fortunate in other ways, though. He is, for example, fortunate enough to not have been sent with Ginny to Romania so she can 'cool down a bit'. Although, Ginny probably wouldn't have needed cooling down if Harry hadn't been on an Auror mission.

Luna adjusts the make-shift pillow of her travelling cloak and shoes, and turns onto her back. It isn't really very kind to be thinking of her friend like this. It is rather hard to turn her attention to anything else, unfortunately – even for Luna, who devoted essays entitled 'Describe the functions of the Substantive Charm' on the breeding patterns of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – because the heat is _unbearable_.

"I'm going to find Charlie," Ginny snaps, leaping to her feet. "This is silly. It's torture, that's what it is. He's trying to torture me, just because I told Peggy Macmillan that he fancied her, and that was years ago."

Luna is surprised to find Ginny so reasonable, and a little surprised too that the placid-seeming Charlie would fabricate a story of needing the two girls to watch a hatching dragon in a stifling room, just so he can take revenge on his little sister.

Ginny lets forth a series of expletives, sending Charlie's belongings flying every which way in the search for her wand. Luna leans back on her elbows, watching the destruction with mild curiosity, and considering for the first time the idea that maybe Mrs Weasley just wanted a few days without her hot-headed daughter.

She checks herself again, knowing it is only the heat that is making her think like this.

It is only a few minutes afterwards that Ginny's brother returns, but Ginny has managed to make the room completely unrecognisable in that time.

"Bugger," Charlie says, running his hands through his hair. Luna notes that this is probably the only word that Ginny left out of her string of profanities, so they now have a full collection. "Ginevra, if you don't put my boots right back down this instant, so help me-"

Ginny seems to have exhausted herself, however, and flings herself back onto Charlie's bed with a huffing noise. "If you hadn't taken my wand, this wouldn't have been necessary, _Charles_."

"Act your age, Ginny," Charlie says scornfully. "I'm a dragon-tamer, not a baby-sitter."

Luna sits up, now that it is safe to do so without fear of being hit by a missile, and wipes the sweat from her face. Part of the reason Mrs Weasley suggested Romania was to give the girls some experience with the dragon reserve. Neither girl knows what they want to do with their lives, not _really_. Ginny is toying with the idea of professional Quidditch, but Luna is (perhaps not for the first time) clueless.

She knows now that dragons are not for her. If this is how hot she has to be in order to be around a baby dragon, she's not sure she would like the temperature required for being near a fully-grown dragon.

"What breed did you say it was?"

Luna glances up, startled by the new voice.

"Longhorn," Charlie replies, closing the door and walking over to the fire. "Couldn't see any sign of the mother around, so I volunteered to hatch it. It'll hopefully be moved to the hatching rooms before it fully emerges, but a Vipertooth decided she'd rather eat her eggs than meet her babies, so those are occupied at the moment. Girls, this is Rolf Sc-"

"Nice to meet you," Rolf says, cutting over Charlie and extending his hand towards Luna. His smile is too wide, and Luna dislikes him immediately for interrupting a Weasley. She shakes his hand, but drops back down to the floor and rubs her palm along her foot afterwards, for fear of attracting mind-reading Humdingers. Daddy says they're particularly prominent in Romania and, whilst she's sure they're friendly, she doesn't want her mind being broadcast to this stranger.

Charlie gives Rolf a half-amused smile. "That's Luna, and little baby Ginny's on the bed there."

"You're so funny, Charlie," comes the muffled reply – Ginny has apparently stuffed a pillow over her face. Luna isn't too sure of the practicalities of such an action, given the already boiling room, but is sure Ginny has an extremely good reason for it.

Luna adjusts her headband (orange, to discourage Nargles from nesting in her hair) and fans her face with her hand, enjoying the very slight breeze it offers. "Ginny isn't normally like this," she informs Rolf helpfully. "She hasn't seen her boyfriend in about six months, and I think she misses him. Her mother sent us here, but it was really much colder at home... She doesn't usually wear pillows."

"Thank you, Luna," Charlie's pillow replies.

Ignoring the girls, Rolf moves to the fireplace and kneels, examining the egg. "How long have you been incubating it for?"

"Not long, just an hour or so. Longhorns take their sweet time hatching."

"Snorkacks are the same," Luna adds, nodding.

"Snorkacks?" Rolf asks, twisting to look at her, his dark eyes narrowing as he takes in her appearance. Words bubble to her lips about how she _knows_ profuse amounts of sweat attract all manner of Dark creatures, but she bites down on her tongue, and pushes a hand through her damp hair. "Is that a breed of dragon?"

Luna shakes her head, eager to impart some of her own knowledge. "The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are a rare creature, most often sighted in Swe-"

She is interrupted by Rolf's loud snort. "You sound just like that prat who runs the Quibbler."

Luna is quite taken aback. "No, I don't."

"You do. Snorkacks, indeed. He's always writing to my grandfather, trying to prove the existence of some nonsensical magical creature. Ridiculous man."

Luna swells up at this. "I don't _sound_ like my father at all," she replies haughtily, thrusting her chin forward. "He is a man in his forties, and I am approaching twenty. I think you are the ridiculous one if you cannot tell our voices apart!"

The pillow lets out a yelp of laughter, and Ginny emerges, looking entirely dishevelled. "Quite right, Luna," she says solemnly, and Luna is glad to see her friend restored to her former good spirits. "Ridiculous, in _deed_. Now, what do you think about taking a look around this dragon reserve, since the baby-sitter has returned to take over?"

She leads Luna out of the room before either Rolf or Charlie can respond.

\--

Romania does, to Mrs Weasley's credit, leave a profound effect on Luna. She decides she wants nothing more than to prove the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, so the next time she comes across a Rolf, he will be full of praises for her father – the one who knew it all along. It does not leave a profound effect on Ginny, but neither does Ginny feel the need to continue to wait around for Harry's return. She gets herself signed on as a reserve to the Holyhead Harpies.

Luna travels to Sweden.

It proves harder than she thinks to uncover a single Crumple-Horned Snorkack, though there is a rather nasty run-in with a Swedish Short-Snout. Thankfully, her time in the reserve has taught her that she does not enjoy being in close proximity to dragons, and she escapes (albeit narrowly, but it is the best for both of them. She has ingested a good deal of Gurdyroot tea, and she isn't sure the dragon would like it had it accidentally bitten her).

Her current predicament is all down to mistaking a Hinkypunk for a Snorkack newborn, leaving her standing knee-high in mud. Fortunately, she was able to deal with the Hinkypunk as soon as she came to her senses, but she is hesitant to Apparate away lest she frighten any of the highly-sensitive magical creatures. She might disrupt their breeding patterns for another year, and then there would be even less of them around.

"Hey, there! Are you all right?"

Luna rolls her eyes. She needn't have bothered trying to tread so carefully; the Snorkacks are sure to have been scared off now. She neglects to respond, wading her way through the thick mud instead. One of her shoes falls off in the process, and she halts, feeling her way through to the bottom. They are her best shoes for repelling mind-reading, and she is reluctant to lose them. Daddy always tells her that sole-reading is a dangerous and commonly-practised skill, and he is surprised that Hogwarts still refuses to teach its students about its dangers, though Dumbledore once agreed to look into it.

The stranger is now striding towards her, apparently unheeded by the mud. "Can you walk?" he calls out.

Luna frowns, wedging the misplaced shoe back onto her foot. It squelches unpleasantly. "Of course I can walk," she answers calmly. "Did you come all the way out to ask me that? You could have asked me from the grass, or waited until I got back. I won't be long."

He stops, scowling at her. "I came out here to _rescue_ you."

"That was very kind of you," says Luna airily. "I'm afraid I'm fine right now. Would you like me to let you know if I need to be rescued?"

He lets out a bark of laughter, returning to the bank. "I think I'll be okay without that, thanks."

Luna shrugs it off, slipping and sliding her way back to join him. She sits down on a tree stump, removing her shoes and wrinkling her nose as the mud starts to dry in the hot August sun. One glance at her companion tells her that he is no Muggle - she can see his wand poking out the back pocket of his jeans. Figuring that she can use her own wand now, because her intended rescuer has likely frightened off any sensitive creatures anyway, she magically cleans her shoes, deciding that her legs and skirt can wait until she returns to her hotel.

"What were you doing out there anyway?"

"Oh, I was looking for Snorkacks," Luna says, putting her shoes back on. "It's all right, I don't think you scared them off entirely. You should really try to be quieter, though."

He frowns at her, using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "Luna Lovegood?"

She blinks at him, a little frightened that he knows her name. "Yes?"

"You're Charlie Weasley's kid sister's friend, right?"

And then it dawns on her. Rolf.

She cannot help her shoulders tensing and her eyes narrowing – they seem to be acting of their own accord. "That's right. Lovely to see you again," she says, though the sincerity is clearly lacking in her voice. Luna is not a resentful person exactly, but being friends with Ginny appears to have taken its toll on her peaceful temperament.

"Found any Snorkacks yet?" He grins at her, and she supposes he is trying to make friends, but her mouth presses itself together and won't let her accept the offer. Eventually, the smile slides right off his face, and he shifts awkwardly. "I just got to Sweden myself. I'm not here for long, though, I'm heading over to Albania - eventually, anyway. Now that the Ministry know You-Know-Who's not around to have a vested interest in the country, they want me to assess this supposedly haunted forest."

She gives him a cold look, her eyebrows raising. "Harry thinks it's ridiculous to keep saying You-Know-Who," she informs him loftily. "It means he still has power. Harry says that what he wants is for the next generation to _not_ know who, and we can help do that by treating Voldemort like any other person and calling him by his name."

Rolf looks incredulous, and he folds his arms across his chest. "I see. Now, is this the Quibbler's official word on the matter?"

"No," she replies, genuinely astonished. He could probably do with having his ears cleaned out; she's quite certain that she spoke clearly. Perhaps it isn't his fault, though; perhaps his brain has become infested with Wrackspurts. Most people don't take proper precautions against them. "It's Harry Potter's. The Boy-Who-Lived, though he doesn't much like that either. He's my friend," she adds, though Rolf hadn't enquired.

"I guess a lot of people want to call themselves the friend of the Chosen One," Rolf says, and there is a note of hostility in his tone that even Luna can't mistake.

She can ignore it, though, and chooses to. "Probably," she responds lightly, taking out her handkerchief and brushing down the dirt on her legs. It has dried somewhat, and flakes off reasonably easily. "I don't think Harry would like them to, though."

"Doesn't like much, then, our hero?"

Luna rubs her nose, eyebrows drawing together. She decides she definitely does _not_ like Rolf.

\--

She leaves Sweden for France, determining that it must be the wrong season for Snorkacks and instead deciding she'd quite like to see more winged horses. A note to Hagrid gets her authorisation to the Beauxbatons stables, but Rolf is there already. He says he's tracking the growth of the herd, but Luna is beginning to suspect he's trying to hinder her Snorkack progress, and wonders if they are there after all.

He hinders her very well; she stays in France three months and cannot find any trace of a Snorkack. They must have returned to Sweden.

She does manage to compile extensive records on the Abraxans, which she sends off to the Ministry in the hope of softening the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures up so they will fund her next Snorkack expedition.

After that, she has no choice but to return home, but it means she is back for Christmas. Daddy is delighted. He is always very conscious of that one Christmas they spent apart, when she had been in the Malfoy Manor. He quite outdoes himself this year, and the Lovegood house simply seems to glow. Dirigible plums hang from gold-coloured string, streamers float from room to room, singing baubles bounce up and down on the tree, and bursts of confetti erupt at intervals from thin air.

On Christmas Eve, somebody knocks at the door, causing it to let out a rousing chorus of 'Deck the Halls'. Luna slips down to answer it, cutting the door off before it can suggest where the visitors can stick their holly.

"Sorry, that's the fourth time it's been asked to sing that today, and I think it's getting tired of it," she says, pulling open the door to find herself speaking to Rolf. "Oh."

"Merry Christmas, Luna," he says, his breath puffing out in the frigid winter air.

Much as she dislikes Rolf, she cannot leave him to the mercy of Nargles, who thrive in cold weather and delight in stealing breath. "Merry Christmas. Would you like to come in?"

He nods, and she stands back to let him past. "Luna, I-"

Daddy interrupts him, coming into the hallway to see who their visitor is. He is wearing his most recent incarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, and Luna is pleased to note they will finally have the chance to prove Rolf wrong. She excuses herself, offering to bring Gurdyroot tea, leaving Xenophilius to occupy Rolf. Luna smiles to herself, thinking that Daddy couldn't have picked a better topic to right Rolf's opinion of him. Daddy really is very well informed on the subject of Wrackspurts.

"… oh, yes, Christmas is a very dangerous time of year. Wonderful, yes, wonderful indeed, because everybody is so much more open to new ideas, but very dangerous. It is especially important to watch out for Nargles around Christmas; they tend to favour hiding in mistletoe, but will not hesitate to disguise themselves in any of your decorations if given the chance! Ah, thank you, Luna, that's magnificent."

Rolf is rubbing his temples; a clear sign that he is trying to maximise his intake of knowledge. Luna feels a bit sorry for him, much as she dislikes him, since it is rather a lot to deal with, after all. "I'll be sure to stay alert, thanks, Mister Lovegood." He looks at Luna rather nervously; possibly he doesn't understand that they have undertaken measures to expel Nargles from their home. As she opens her mouth to explain, though, he speaks. "I was wondering if I could talk to Luna alone – if that's all right with you."

Xenophilius leaves agreeably, with the parting comment that he is happy to share their recipe for Gurdyroot tea.

"Luna. I – I work for the Department for the Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures, and…" He blows out his cheeks, looking down at his hands. "They were very impressed by your report, and would like to invite you along on my next excursion."

"Oh," she manages, flopping into one of their seats. "How long is it for?"

He shrugs, following her example and sitting down. A rogue streamer appears to have taken a fancy to him, and is winding itself around his legs, cat-like. "Not sure. The Albanian forest is a bit more of an undertaking than I first anticipated, and I need assistance."

She tilts her head, considering. She can feel the Dirigible Plums encouraging her to keep an open mind, and thinks what a good idea of Daddy's it was to hang them around the living room. Pretty and practical in one. "Okay."

"Okay as in you'll think about it, or okay as in you'd like to come?"

"Both," she says decisively, draining her teacup. "You haven't had any of your tea!"

Rolf gives the cup a guilty glance, and gulps it down – which is silly, because he won't really be able to taste it.

"Did you want to stay for dinner?"

His face lights up, but he shakes his head, setting the cup down. "No, thanks, Luna. I'd better be off. Granddad's expecting me back."

Rolf refuses to allow her to wander off on her own in Albania, and he makes so much noise that the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks all run away before Rolf and Luna can sneak up on them. Despite this, she finds she doesn't mind travelling with him, and then she finds that she isn't lonely any more. She realises that she has been a little bit lonely for quite a long time.

It is impossible to be feel alone, when she can lie on her back for hours, examining the changing sky through the network of leaves above, and all he does is pick leaves out of her hair and hand her a blanket when it starts to get cold. He isn't the repressive force Luna had encountered on their first few meetings, and she is glad of it.

Later, Rolf tells her that he couldn't do without her, as they crouch down, examining a nest of Dugbogs. She smiles and quietly tells him how ridiculous he is.

It is April before they have completed a full evaluation of the "haunted" Albanian forest, and they will need to return in a few months to reassess it in summer. For now, though, they are free to go back to Britain.

They hand in their reports to the Ministry, and Luna laughs and comments on how odd it is to be stepping on a ground that doesn't crunch underfoot. She claims she doesn't know how she'll be able to cope with four solid walls and a noiseless night.

Really, it will be strange to be without Rolf, but she isn't sure he wants to hear that. He has his hands shoved in his pockets, and he looks like he wants nothing more than to be by himself. It is a little like there are two Rolfs, and she somehow left the friendly one behind in Albania.

Luna falters, reaching up and taking her wand from behind her ear. "Goodbye, Rolf. You're welcome to – to visit, if you would like. I could make you Freshwater Plimpy soup. We're quite famous for it."

He half-smiles. "Yeah, maybe."

She wonders if she could threaten to set Harry Potter on him. It is something that worked quite well for Ginny in her seventh year, when anybody was unpleasant to her (and she wasn't able to employ her favourite hex). She doesn't think it would make Rolf any nicer, though, and nice is all she wants him to be.

She wants a proper goodbye, and so she envelopes him in a tight hug. He tenses, but then she feels his arms wrap around her.

"Are you cross with me for leaving?" Luna asks, tilting her head up. "It's all right if you are. Ginny is always cross at Harry for leaving."

Rolf shakes his head, untangling himself from her. "No, Luna, I'm not. I'm going to miss you, that's all."

"You have a strange way of showing it," she informs him. "Most people are nice to the people they miss."

This prompts a grin from him. "You're right," he replies. "I do apologise." He sweeps her back into the hug, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Goodbye, Luna-my-Luna. See you soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Luna-my-Luna line thieved/adapted from 'Rilla of Ingleside')


	2. Of Anniversaries and Dirigible Plums

Xenophilius Lovegood has never made himself a particularly popular figure in the Wizarding World. You could never be entirely sure when he was going to accuse your family of harbouring nests of Nifflers, awaiting your chance to seize Gringotts from goblin control because you didn't agree with their tea break allocations.

Appearing in The Quibbler holds none of the thrill of appearing in The Daily Prophet... until Harry Potter makes it obvious which newspaper he prefers.

So, when Xenophilius announces the tenth anniversary of The Quibbler, people scramble for invitations, hoping for a chance to be near the Golden Boy, and pretending The Quibbler hasn't already been in print for at least thirteen or fourteen years.

Luna contemplates that this might be the very best party ever. Daddy has purchased hundreds of balloons, each of which sings a different song over and over, which Luna knows people will like, because this way, there is a song for everybody. Other balloons explode in mid-air, showering guests with confetti that she's sure they will be able to remove later on.

The guests seem to be entering into the spirit of things; Luna has already seen a few guests pretend to be knocked off their feet by the streamers zipping around, and even heard them continue the charade by complaining about it. At this rate, she doubts anyone will mind that the 'cake' is entirely comprised of past Quibbler issues.

She drifts off to talk to Ginny and Harry, the latter of whom is apparently some sort of magnet for the singing balloons - they surround him, forming a bizarre-looking, discordant halo.

"All right, Luna?" Harry asks, batting one of the balloons away. It is wholly ineffective; not only does the balloon return, but it brings a partner.

Ginny scowls, aiming her wand at the new arrival. It bursts, with the sound of a cannon-blast, but thankfully stops singing.

The rest of the balloons scatter immediately, and Ginny sticks her wand in her back pocket, looking satisfied.

"Thanks, Gin," Harry says, grinning. "Very useful."

"Oh, there's nothing I can't get rid of, especially now Ron's started working with George, and can't seem to stop himself testing out new products on me. I swear, I'm a day away from a permanent Bat-Bogey Hex. The only thing stopping me is the thought of my future nieces and nephews."

"Do it," Harry says grimly. "I haven't been able to remove my glasses for a week and a half."

"Daddy has some potions you can try out," Luna offers generously. "People are always sending things through the post that stick to Daddy. It's very unfortunate. Sometimes people send rubbish by accident. I often wonder how they feel when they discover they've sent the wrong thing. They're usually too embarrassed to send apologies."

Neither of them reply, and Luna notices Ginny's eyes fixing on a point behind her and widening, which is the only warning she has before she turns and catches sight of-

Rolf.

"Hey, Luna."

Luna sets her jaw, and wishes the balloons were back, so she could have reasonably pretended not to have heard him. Perhaps he will assume Wrackspurts have blocked up her ears.

Ginny mercifully answers for her, cutting across the silence before it has a chance to get awkward. "Aren't you Rolf Scamander? I'm Charlie-"

"Weasley's sister," Rolf finishes with a smile, folding his arms across his chest. "Nice to see you again."

"This is Harry."

Luna has witnessed Ginny introducing Harry many times, and discovered that every time she introduces him as 'Harry Potter', it seems to grant access to thousands of unwanted questions. This way, giving the illusion of intimacy with the saviour of wizardkind, without the acknowledgement that this is _the_ Harry Potter, is usually far more effective.

Rolf raises one of his eyebrows ever-so-slightly, and Luna – who spent months with him as her only companion – is probably the only one to discern a change in facial expression. He extends his hand, and says, "Good to meet you, Harry."

"Have you seen my brother lately?" Ginny asks curiously, darting a look at Luna.

"Not lately," he answers, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, Lu-"

"Young man," intones a voice from behind him. "Please, explain how I have ended up at a party being presided over by none other than _Xenophilius Lovegood_. Preferably whilst you are arranging for our immediate departure."

Rolf flushes, and turns around, taking a step back, which inadvertently places him right beside Luna.

The voice belongs to an elderly wizard, who does not appear to have noticed that his loud tones have attracted the attention of more than one party-goer – and even of Xenophilius himself.

"Newton! Newton – I didn't think my letters were getting through to you any more!" Xenophilius calls, hurrying across the room in a cloud of luminous green. "I can't tell you how much-"

Five feet from Newton, Xenophilius is thrown back in a burst of red light.

Luna exclaims loudly, fearing an Umgubular Slashkilter has snuck in unnoticed, but Xenophilius has scrambled to his feet before she can get further than three paces. "Not to worry, Newton, all my fault. All my fault. Slipped my mind, that's all. Don't fret, I'm not intending on breaking any rules. I know the limits."

Newton does not look especially comforted. "Not a problem," he says in a clipped tone. "Unfortunately, we can't stay long. I was just telling my grandson that we've been called out to Sweden. Something about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

Xenophilius's expression is purely blissful. "Oh, of course, Newton, of course. Perhaps I might-"

"Top secret, obviously, Xenophilius. Wouldn't want the papers getting hold of such a thing. Might scare off the backers, if you know what I mean."

The Quibbler's editor falters, but then nods vigorously.

Looking pleased that things have gone his way, Newton nods to Rolf. "Shall we be off, then?"

Rolf shifts his weight from foot to foot, shooting Luna a covert glance. "Actually, Granddad-" Luna starts. Granddad. Of course. "–I haven't quite finished. There's some Ministry matters that I need to discuss privately with Miss Lovegood."

Both Xenophilius and Newton's eyes land on Luna at the same time, and she shrinks back.

"I can see why you chose to bring these Ministry matters of yours to a party," Newton observes coolly. "I'll be waiting for you at home, Rolf. Don't forget, mind. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. In fact-" He peers at Rolf, and then turns on Xenophilius. "Dear me, Xenophilius. The boy has clearly been infested with Wracklesplinters. Did you not put up any protection? He looks quite vacant."

Xenophilius looks a little like he might burst into tears. "I might have something," he mutters distractedly, before disappearing off into the crowd.

"That was unkind," Luna informs Newton calmly, taking a step closer, and finding herself able to get closer to the writer than her father.

Newton, she discovers, has the same guilty expression as his grandson. "My apologies, dear girl. Your father tends to be a little effusive in his praise for my works. I find a gentle suggestion that I am paying attention to his findings most successful."

"My father is not a child, Mister Scamander," Luna says determinedly, thrusting her chin forward. She is quite aware that Rolf will probably side with his grandfather, and she will not only lose him, but his Ministry contacts too. "There is no need to humour him if you do not have the benefit of a mind as open as his."

As she turns on her heel and exits, she hears Newton's comment. "With a mind as open as his, it's a wonder only his common sense has fallen out so far."

\--

Luna sinks down onto the grass outside, watching the hall's windows flash various colours. It must have rained at some point; the grass is damp, but not unpleasantly so. The noise from the remaining balloons thankfully has not travelled outside; she prefers silence at the moment. She brings her knees up to her chest, and wraps her arms tightly around her legs.

"Mind if I join you?"

She shakes her head, knowing without checking that it is Rolf.

He sits next to her, stretching his legs out over the grass. "Nice night. If it stays this quiet, we might get to see some Mooncalves. I hear they're popular in Devon."

Luna offers him a weak smile. "I don't mind if you want to go and collect their dung by yourself."

"Ouch," Rolf replies good-naturedly, leaning back on his elbows. "I think that might be the most unkind thing you've ever said, young lady."

Luna shrugs, tugging at a handful of grass. "Maybe," she replies vaguely. "I don't often say unkind things. I usually try to avoid it."

"I know. I'm, er, sorry about Granddad. He's not normally – well. I obviously didn't think he'd be like that, or I would have ensured he stayed at home."

"Why was he here?" asks Luna, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. "Why are _you_ here?"

He avoids her eyes, glancing over at the trees that form the perimeter of the nearby park. "Can't I visit my friends every so often?"

It has been three years since Hogwarts, and still the word friend makes her glow in the same way it did when Ginny first started calling her that. She is quiet, contemplative, and considers how effective her new Dirigible Plum pendant must be.

Rolf sighs. "All right, Luna, you win." She stares at him, unable to ascertain what sort of game they have been playing. "Look, I didn't answer your letters because – oh, I don't know. You're so young."

"I'm old enough to receive letters," she blurts out, alarmed.

He pulls a face at her. "Very funny, Luna-my-" He clears his throat. "I was the one who requested your training be with McGilligan. I thought if I didn't see you, I'd stop thinking about you."

It starts raining then, the drops cool on her skin, and Luna wonders whether the weather has been listening to them. Maybe the clouds like the idea that Rolf has been trying not to think about her as much as she does. She unfolds her legs, placing her hands behind her on the grass and leaning back on them. When Rolf asks if she'd like to go somewhere drier, she shakes her head.

"It's not that bad yet," she answers, though she is aware that the earth is becoming wetter beneath her hands. "It's – nice. It reminds me of Albania."

"In Albania," Rolf says, conjuring a rain-free bubble around himself, "we had tents. Dry tents."

Luna shakes her head at him, sending a few droplets scattering with the movement. "I don't think your grandfather would be very impressed if he heard you talking like that."

Rolf grins back, and she has forgotten how much she likes to see him smile. "I think you made a bad enough impression for the two of us, Luna, d- don't you?"

"Depends if he's met Harry Potter yet," Luna says lightly, tracing a pattern in the mud. "I find people often think better of me if they discover I'm Harry Potter's friend."

Rolf is quiet for a moment, but then he smirks. "You'll find a similar thing happens when people discover you're friends with me."

Luna shifts forward onto her knees, getting mud down the front of her robes to complement the back, so she can look him directly in the eye. She can't tell where his rain barrier begins, and isn't sure if it will allow her any closer – but she is not interested in testing it. She has had enough of Lovegoods being barred from Scamanders for one day. "Hmm."

He looks more wide-eyed and innocent than she has ever seen him, and she notices he is keeping very still. He reminds her a little of a wild animal trying to figure out who she is and what her next move will be.

Luna's mouth twitches, almost betraying a smile, and she says thoughtfully, "I think your grandfather may have been right."

"About what?"

"Wrackspurts. I think you might have been infected. Maybe we'd better get you inside after all."

Rolf turns his head away, and she sees that beads of rain have settled themselves in his hair. After a minute, he rises – when did he remove the bubble? – and offers her a hand.

"Did it work?"

"Did what work?" he asks, his voice a little rough as he helps her to her feet.

"Your plan. Did you manage to stop thinking about me?"

He looks her up and down, mud-covered robes to soggy hair, his eyes resting on the Dirigible Plum necklace.

"We should go inside," he says instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the hall. "Your father will be wondering where you are."


	3. Of Journals and Harpies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holyhead Harpies reach the final.

_The Bowtruckles we observed seemed content to-_

_content to-_

Luna yawns widely, struggling to focus on the words on the page.

"Dry report?" McGilligan asks cheerfully, planting a mug in front of her.

Still not sure of her place in this office, Luna shakes her head, fixing her eyes on the drink. The report _is_ dry, but she'd rather not complain about the work she's given until she's certain she's earned their respect. "I couldn't sleep last night," she answers. Couldn't sleep, because Daddy had her up on a Snorkack hunt, though she has learned not to mention Daddy's expeditions at the Ministry. The Ministry do not hold Daddy in a particularly high regard, because they need to see things to believe them. Sometimes, Luna suspects they are beginning to win her round to their way of thinking. But that might be the amount of brain-addling creatures employed by the Ministry to prevent people seeing the sort of things the Ministry is really up to.

"Ah, yes. I'm not surprised; the moon was bright last night. If only your father had named you Solar, then I might have had your full attention today, eh?"

Luna smiles politely in response, having endured puns based on her name ever since meeting McGilligan. She supposes it makes a change from 'Loony'.

"Anyway, never mind that. I've found some more interesting work for you to do, if you'd like?"

Eagerly, Luna nods, but her excitement is misplaced, for McGilligan's instance that she learn the tricks of the trade before going out on more expeditions continues. He places a journal on her desk, one filled with comments from somebody who isn't stuck indoors for their future benefit.

"Rolf Scamander," announces McGilligan, but Luna already knows that from his handwriting. "Read it, write it up – for Merlin's sake, make sense of the boy's scribbles. I'm convinced half his reputation is based off the fact that nobody can read what he writes."

Luna's cheeks are flushing hot and cold as she flicks through the book. Thankfully, her supervisor is unaware, and leaves with a smile.

Rolf would make a good writer, she decides, curling up in her chair. His observations are interesting, and he has a knack of describing things in a way that almost has Kappas manifesting themselves in her office. She should see if she can get him to do a piece for Daddy – though his grandfather probably wouldn't approve. Rolf may not approve either, she reflects glumly, pursing her lips.

She is halfway through a section on Re'em poachers, when a noise behind her makes her start. She whips around, wand in hand and heart in mouth, half-expecting to have mentally transported the poachers to her office, but all she finds is-

"Harry!"

Harry grins at her – or, rather, at her brandished wand, which she promptly sticks behind her ear. He looks dreadful; hair sticking up at all angles (though that, she supposes, is nothing out of the ordinary), and robes torn and muddied.

"Just came off a case," he says, running his fingers through his hair, and pulling out twigs. "I thought we might not finish in time, and it went right down to the wire."

"What wire?" Luna asks, carefully marking her page in Rolf's journal, before closing the book.

Harry fishes his wand out from his Muggle jeans underneath his robes. "Figure of speech, Luna. Don't worry about it. So, do you have the tickets?"

Ginny's Quidditch team had reached the British and Irish League final. Not wanting her to be too disappointed if he couldn't make it last-minute, Harry told her straight out that he'd be tied up with the Aurors, and arranged for Luna to get him a ticket instead, figuring she would be better able to keep a secret from Ginny than one of the Weasley brothers. If he couldn't make it, he reasoned, Luna could bring her father, and Ginny would be none the wiser.

It was not, as it turned out, a particularly brilliant plan, and Harry wound up sleeping at Ron's the night before he was due to leave.

"Of course. You'll need a change of clothes, though. Don't worry, I've got just the thing," Luna says, beaming.

He does still look rather concerned, but perhaps that is just a hangover from being with the Aurors. The expression vanishes instantly once they have Apparated back to her house, and he catches sight of what she has in mind.

"No."

"I know they look a bit ridiculous now, but not when we reach the stadium," Luna says practically, tossing his at him. "Everybody wears them."

"People who go every week wear them," Harry corrects her. "Everybody else wears what they like – and I'd rather be like everybody else."

That's Harry's problem, really, Luna thinks as she shrugs at him. They don't have time for him to stall, much less for him to find something else to wear. Besides, this is the perfect way to ensure Harry Potter won't stick out like a sore thumb.

Or, so she thinks. When they turn up at the game, they attract a surprising amount of jeers. Probably fans of the opposite team – some of whom, she notes, have turned up dressed as wasps. Well, that is hardly less embarrassing than being dressed as a harpy.

The sight doesn't seem to cheer Harry up any, though perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Dean and Seamus have shown up, and are currently weeping with laughter. It is difficult for Luna to pretend they can be laughing at anything but the costumes. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Harry readjust his feathery headdress uncomfortably.

Sitting with Dean and Seamus is not the pleasant experience she thought it would be when Dean first suggested it. True, they are all cheering Ginny on, but in between times, Dean and Seamus devote themselves to winding Harry up about his outfit, until Harry cracks and hexes them, promising darkly that they'll find out what he's done _later_.

It works wonders, and the two boys content themselves with casting slurs on the opposition rather than their fellow supporters.

"Oi, Harding – my nan could have hit that harder!"

"Give it up, Johnson, you couldn't find the Snitch if you choked on it!"

This last comment appears to be of particular amusement to Harry, though perhaps he's just trying to make up for whatever spell he cast on them. Luna leaps to her feet as a figure in dark green robes bolts for the Wasps's posts. The area around them erupts as Ginny scores.

"Beautifully weighted throw, mate," Dean tells Harry enthusiastically, as though Harry had been responsible for it.

The scores mount up quickly after that, and the lead changes hands several times.

"This one's all going to hinge on the Snitch," Seamus notes wisely, "and half the time, that Powell would have trouble catching a cold."

Luna hugs herself, aware that her voice is beginning to fade as the hours drift by.

The match ends abruptly; one moment, the Harpies' Seeker is dodging a Bludger, the next, she is punching the air in victory, her hand clamped around a small golden ball. The stadium quietens for a second, making the subsequent noise explosion seem even louder, and Georgie Powell is engulfed by her team-mates.

"Knew she had it in her!" Seamus exclaims, and Luna's mouth quirks in an amused smile. It has almost been like old times, watching Gryffindor play – only with Harry in the stands for a change.

They sit and wait for the crowds to disperse, as the Harpies are receiving their trophy on the pitch, and the Wimbourne Wasps are standing by, arguing amongst themselves. Harry drums his fingers on his knees impatiently.

"Thank you for the ticket, Luna," he says, noticing her looking his way. "I just hope I can catch Ginny before she apparates home."

"She won't go immediately," Luna informs him, adjusting her feathered cloak. "All the Weasleys are here. Molly asked me if I wanted the ticket they got you this morning." In response to his guilty expression, she pats his knee. "Don't worry. I told them that Nargles like to nest at the top of Quidditch stands. She believed me, even though everyone knows-"

"Nargles like a quiet life," Harry continues, nodding sagely. "Look, the crowd's letting up. We can go wait outside the players' rooms for her; that's probably where the Weasleys are."

Dean and Seamus follow them down, declaring their desire to congratulate Ginny, but Luna suspects it has rather more to do with the other six members of her team.

The Weasleys have come _en force_ to the game, and it isn't till Luna sees the expressions on their faces that she recalls the harpy costumes. Ron demands how much Harry got paid, and George asks if he lost a bet, and then Bill wants to know if Harry's seen a _mirror_. It all stops when Harry, turning a bright red that he fails to hide despite pulling the beak-shaped hat down as low as it will go, flicks a glance at Luna.

Dean slips his arm around Luna's shoulders, and gives her a comforting squeeze. They've been close ever since they wound up at Shell Cottage together, and Dean often checks she isn't getting too lost in magical creatures at the expense of human companionship. "Never mind them, you make a great harpy," he tells her, with a grin. "And Harry's never looked so fetching."

"I heard that, Thomas," Harry informs him, having discarded the hat at last.

"Has she come out yet?"

George rolls his eyes, and turns to his newly arrived brother. "Yes, Charlie. That's why we're all standing around like mugs. Because she's already come out."

Luna tenses, because it's Charlie, and she hasn't seen him since she first met Rolf. And all of a sudden, Charlie's companion is standing right in front of her, and she half feels like she might have summoned him through her thoughts.

Rolf's eyes linger on Dean's arm around her, and suddenly, smoothly, Dean pulls away to pay his respects to the emerging Harpy Beater – Gertie, or something of the sort.

"I've been reading about you," she manages, her mouth oddly dry, and she realises that the problem with wearing Dirigible Plum pendants in crowds is that there are too many thoughts around. That must be her problem; too many thoughts fighting for attention, so she can't simply pluck one out and focus on it.

"McGilligan told me," he answers. "I was in the office today. Luna, what are you wearing?"

She tries not to react to his being in the office and not visiting her, though cannot help the corners of her mouth turning down. She is beginning to feel ridiculous now, and her cheeks aren't just heating up from the warmth of the day. "I'm a harpy."

"I see," Rolf replies, moving so he can lean against the wall. "I'm more of an Arrows fan myself. We'dve been playing the Harpies today if the Wasps hadn't been cheating scum in the semi. Bloody pests."

"Good job you're not still bitter," Charlie smirks. "I never would have given you Harry's ticket if I thought you'd be shouting for the other side, anyway."

Ginny chooses that moment to emerge, and Luna watches her reaction to her boyfriend's presence affectionately, feeling a happy glow steal through her.

"Luna? Can we go somewhere and – talk?"

Whilst this is far from the last thing she wants to do right now, Luna experiences a pang of regret as she takes one final look, seeing Ginny taking Harry's beaked hat from him. Nevertheless, she nods at Rolf, and finds herself being tugged away by her hand

He stops when they're a reasonable distance away, tucked behind a now-closed food stall, out of sight and hearing of the Weasleys. She finds her breath shortening, and isn't wholly sure it's down to the brisk walk.

Rolf looks ever the same – perhaps a little more tired than before. Luna has forgotten how much taller he is than her; she does her best to straighten up so he doesn't need to stoop so much.

"So – how've you been?"

Luna frowns at him, rolling the sleeves of her feathered cloak up. It really is getting to be unbearably hot – why hadn't she thought to bring a change of clothes for after the game? "Fine. The Weasleys are allowed to know I've been fine as well, though."

He shifts uncomfortably; perhaps he is too hot also. Or perhaps, as she is beginning to suspect, he has no real reason for stealing her away.

"You got my journal, then?"

Idly, she fiddles with one of her earrings – talon-shaped, to complete her harpy costume. She hadn't made Harry copy _that_ part. "Of course."

"You're not making this easy, Luna."

She eyes him critically, because, really, she is trying to make this as easy as possible. "What is it you want to say?"

For a moment, he looks like a lost boy; then, he blows out his cheeks. "Right. I'm going away. For quite a long time, I think, if everything works out. I'm only going to be in England another month."

Luna is quiet whilst she digests it. "You want me to finish interpreting your journal as soon as I can?"

"No – no, that wasn't what I meant at all. I want – I need you to come with me. Please. I'll make it educational for you; it should be good experience, and I know McGilligan won't let you out of the office for another few months unless somebody requests you specifically. So, I'm requesting you. Specifically."

"You put me with McGilligan in the first place," Luna says slowly. "Did you want me to be stuck in the office?"

Rolf looks pained. "No – and yes. McGilligan's a good trainer, I knew he'd give you a good grounding."

"You can't control my career like this, Rolf," Luna protests, all the frustration at having been stuck indoors all spring suddenly bubbling over. "They hired me because I gave them good research – research I picked up myself. Nobody will ever take me seriously if you're constantly fiddling." She pauses, and rearranges her sleeves which have already slipped past her elbows. "It's not fair that you get so much off the back of your grandfather."

He is staring at her, speechless, as Ginny's face appears round the side of the stall. "Oho! So this is where you snuck off to. No wonder Dean's not been having any luck with you, then, Luna!"

Unable to process this, Luna pushes past her friend, mumbling about going home. She hesitates, and looks back at Rolf, who looks as though she has Stunned him. "I hope you have a nice trip."


	4. Of Dates and Forked Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville probably shouldn't give out dating advice, and Luna certainly shouldn't take it.

"I didn't expect you to visit me," Neville says, though half his attention is on his plants. He is fussing over one Luna thinks she should be able to identify, if she could only muster the will to sort through her memory.

Neville never expects very much, and the comment sends a thrill of guilt through Luna. She and Neville are friends – at least, she thinks they are. She thinks he is wonderful; the clumsy toad-boy made into a resistance hero. Without him, she suspects she would not have a Hogwarts to visit. Certainly, it would have been moulded in a different way.

"I wanted to," she answers, and it's the truth. Partly because she knew he would be working at Hogwarts, and she suddenly felt a deep desire to have that connection with a place again. She doesn't have it yet with her new home, constructed after Death Eaters destroyed the old one. Neville is like home as well, comforting and secure. He greets her like a sister, and she has so longed for a family, for so long.

"Dean told me you went to see Ginny's final."

Neville has stumbled into the area she has been trying to get away from. Her thoughts are tangled with Rolf and Dean and work, and she isn't yet ready to sort them out. She's been avoiding Dirigible Plums for this very reason, to the consternation of her father.

She simply says, "Yes," and hopes that will be an end to it.

"Luna, I know what you're doing," Neville declares, startling Luna. She grips the arms of her chair tightly, wondering how and why, and if he's going to offer her the solution to it all. "You're eyeing up my plants for your horrid animals. I won't have it!"

She relaxes, smiling. "They're safe from me," she says quietly, though now he's pointed it out, she can't help wondering if he has anything with which she might tempt Snorkacks. Perhaps now is not the time to ask. Neville always gets uncomfortable whenever she talks of Snorkacks.

Silence unfurls in the greenhouse, and Luna finds herself soothed by the sight of Neville at work. It strikes her that he is becoming a capable adult, and that Professor Sprout saw something in him that Luna did not.

"Do you think that somebody can change you?" she asks, rocking back in the chair.

He gives her a serious look over some shiny black leaves and she thinks no, Neville changed himself.

"What - _who_ do you mean?"

"Harry," she says, because she means Rolf. "Do you think Harry changed us?"

Neville braces his hands on the desk, and frowns. He is considering her question, which is perhaps more than she'd hoped. "Sometimes I do, and sometimes I think it was the absence of Harry, and sometimes I wonder how much of it was growing up." He shrugs at her. "The Sorting Hat was the first person - thing - to tell me I was brave, so I suppose I knew I had it in me."

The Hat told _her_ she was willing to investigate anything and everything. She sighs. It isn't helpful.

"Anyway," Neville says, clearly beginning to feel uncomfortable. "I heard you turned Dean down."

There it is again. "Dean never asked me anything," she says flatly, wrapping her arms around herself. She has never associated Dean with anything other than friendship - or _had_ never, until people started to talk about it. What is so wrong with Luna that makes Dean not even want to _ask_?

"Oh." Neville evidently wishes he had stuck with the previous topic. "Well, I guess it's for the best. You're not exactly compatible, are you?" As Luna turns her eyes on him, curious, he begins to get flustered. "I mean - he's so normal, and you're - different."

Right. _That's_ the problem.

\--

She leaves Neville an hour or so later, and heads into Hogsmeade. It does not lighten her mood as she hoped, and she knows she must decide what to do. Dean-or-Rolf-or-neither. 

Well. Rolf is not really an option. For the first, he isn't even in the country. But then, Rolf _likes_ her being different, whereas, if Neville is to be believed, Dean would prefer her to be more like him, or at least more like everyone else. But then, Rolf is trying to change her, to contain her in the office.

Luna purses her lips. Perhaps she could try being more like Dean. She might like it. She likes Dean, after all. If it doesn't work out, then she can choose 'neither' with greater conviction.

For a moment, she sits and reflects on Rolf. How he makes her laugh. How he brought his grandfather to the Quibbler's birthday, despite knowing how his grandfather would protest. The way he writes, so that she feels like she hasn't been left behind at all. Luna pulls her knees up to her chest on the grassy verge. How he is always changing his mind, so she is never sure what he thinks of her. How he is never around. How he tries to control her life.

She wipes at her eyes, a little startled to find they are wet. 

\--

"I was surprised to get your owl," Dean says, helping her into her seat. She is grateful to be sitting; she thought she should wear a football kit to show Dean her interest in being normal, but the studded shoes aren't easy to walk in, and she doesn't like kicking the ball everywhere. "I, well, I actually thought you were seeing that Rolf guy, from the Quidditch."

Luna flaps a hand at him dismissively. She is trying not to think of Rolf, which is really very difficult when she's still being sent his travel diary entries at work. And when she dreams of him, but she thinks that is the travel diary's fault, too. She has papered over his face in her bedroom, but it hasn't helped. "I've never been here before," she says instead. She privately thinks that's for a very good reason. The cafe is revolving constantly, and spins in the opposite direction every half hour. Everything is a lurid shade of green, and Luna is pretty sure they are infested with pixies.

"Seamus told me about it," replies Dean, looking around dubiously. "He said it was - different."

There's that word again. Here Luna is, trying to look as normal as possible for Dean in her football kit and huge Keeper's gloves that are making it very difficult to hold even the menu. She's tired, and the banshee music is hurting her ears. "Seamus is very perceptive." It's a lie. She doesn't like Seamus particularly, though perhaps it's because she's so enamoured of the other Gryffindor boys in that year. It's true that, sometimes Ron has displayed evidence that he'd been exposed to Nargles as a child, but he does make her laugh. Seamus, though, is stubborn, and rude.

Dean snorts, so maybe he knows that Seamus isn't perceptive, and that means Luna isn't blocking him in the pursuit of knowledge. "Did you like the Quidditch game?"

"It was a good result," Luna says vaguely, squashing down her thoughts of Rolf. Her thoughts of the game are so entwined with the memory of the argument that she has trouble separating them. "Dean - I - I'm not sure I want to eat here. That table's meal is moving, and I don't think it's because of the rotations."

Dean leaps up, and scatters a handful of coins on the table. "Er. Yes, let's leave. The bloke behind me has been growling for the last five minutes, anyway."

Luna flicks a glance at the table behind, and falters. "I think that's a troll," she says to Dean in an undertone, and he takes her by the elbow and steers her outside immediately.

"I'm going to kill Seamus," Dean announces, but after that, the conversation shrinks down as they walk through the street, until they are making the smallest of small talks.

This is simultaneously the worst and the best date Luna has ever been on, but solely by virtue of being the only date she's ever been on. It is not going to work. She steers Dean to a bench, and tells him so, and thinks he is probably grateful for the reprieve. She, certainly, takes the first opportunity to transfigure her shoes into something she can actually walk in.

Now they are officially no longer on a date, the conversation flows like normal. She tells him about her problems at work, and he casually lays an arm over the back of the bench. He makes her laugh with stories about Seamus, and the time he and Seamus attempted to have a "lads' night out" with Neville, Ron, and Harry. (Luna is not surprised to hear that Harry had trouble being off-duty, and even made an arrest at the pub) This is why Dean's face is painted on her ceiling, why it comforts her to have him and her other friends watching over her whilst she sleeps.

The trouble is, Rolf keeps floating to the forefront of her mind. She wonders where he would have taken her, whether they would have been conscious of it being a Date. Luna supposes the problem with Dean is that she never really wanted their relationship to change, but (if all things were equal) she would quite like things to change with Rolf. For the better, this time, though things could hardly get worse.

Since they are just friends chatting, Luna considers asking Dean's advice. She doesn't usually get time to herself with Dean, and of all her friends, she thinks he might be best able to help. "Dean. Do you - do you think it's possible to be in love with somebody, but they don't know it?" She chews on her lip, concerned that she's worded it poorly. She means, she supposes, that she can't see how she can feel so much for somebody without Rolf being able to at least sense the charge of emotion. 

Dean's fingers have been drumming a tattoo on the back of the bench, but they stop rather abruptly. She finds him looking down at her, rather sadly. "Yes," he says quietly, and pulls her in for a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Yes, Luna, I do."

\--

Work after that is unappealing, but Luna makes herself dress in her brightest outfit anyway, and takes care to adorn herself with Dirigible Plums. Dean told her that he liked her because she was different, and Luna thinks that there is no point in forcing herself to be otherwise.

"Luna," Macauley, an intern, whispers. "Luna, come here."

Luna frowns at him, but makes her way over. A box on Macauley's desk - it is Rolf's desk, really, and the fact makes her heart twinge - is moving and... barking?

"Crup pups," Macauley says happily. It changes his entire face; she is suddenly aware she has never seen him smile before. Perhaps she isn't the only one who dislikes being trapped in the office. "They were dumped outside. McGilligan's gone to find out what he can do with them."

Luna reaches into the box, where there are four young Crups. She pulls one out, and it licks her hand in earnest. "Who could have left you?" she murmurs, checking the pup over. She shoots Macauley a concerned look. "Nobody severed the tails. This one is ten weeks if he's a day."

Macauley nods. "Could have been a Squib. Whoever it was is going to hope that McGilligan never catches up with them."

She sits on the table, and holds the pup in her lap, where it wriggles, and tries to lick her face. "Settle down, little one, or you'll go back in with your brothers and sisters." It is an empty threat. Luna feels calmer than she has in months with the Crup on her lap.

"Do you think we'll get to keep them?" Macauley asks, leaning over the box again.

"Crups don't tend to take very good notes," Luna says dryly, tickling her pup behind the ears. "I think they have worse handwriting than Scamander."

Saying his name aloud is a sort of relief to Luna. It is okay to talk of Rolf in this setting, and she does it casually sometimes, just because she can. Macauley laughs, because even though he's never met Rolf, Rolf's handwriting is somewhat of an office joke. "You've got a whole new batch of scribbles to decipher, by the way. Came in this morning."

There is no mistaking the flutters that awaken in her stomach. Luna carries her new canine friend over to her desk, and sees that there is indeed a new journal. She pictures Rolf curled up with this by the campfire, writing well into the night. She would wake up in Albania sometimes, to find he had not gone to bed as promised, and was still making notes. Back then, she was able to join him, sometimes making her own notes, sometimes content to watch him work. Now, of course, she has only the journal.

The pup wriggles in her clasp, aware, perhaps, of her change in mood. She sits down and sets him on her lap once more, stroking him as she opens the first pages.

She declines to go to lunch with the others, and instead flips through the diary. McGilligan has allowed her to keep the Crup for the time being, until they can find permanent homes for them. They have had their forked tails severed, to enable them to mix with the Muggle world, and her pup obviously did not relish the experience.

Suddenly, Luna sits up in her chair. There, in Rolf's diary, is a page addressed to her.

_Luna,_

_I have started this letter a thousand times in my head._

_I cannot tell you how much I regret our last conversation. It plays over in my mind, and occasionally I manage to convince you that I'm in earnest. Mostly, I make myself wise enough to not mention it. It is always easier to be wiser after the fact._

_The trip has been successful so far, but the rest of the journal will tell you that. Luna, I'm coming home on a break soon. I wanted to prepare you, because I've had the advantage of discussing this with you several times already. I assure you, every time, you give me a thorough ticking off._

_I understand if you don't want to see me, but I hope that you do._

_Rolf_


	5. Of Rolf and Luna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lisa for being my wonderful beta/soundboard throughout!

"I am much too hot," Ginny declares, setting a jug of Pimms down on the table. The Muggle drink is Dean's contribution; he says it tastes like summer, but Luna can't help but question why there seems to be a fruit salad in the jug. What manner of creature is Dean hoping to attract? 

"Come over here," Harry instructs, holding a hand out to Ginny. "I've got just the thing to cool you down."

Ron's lip curls at this. "Do you mind - that's my sister!"

"I was talking about a Freezing Charm," Harry answers, but Ginny giggles at whatever else he whispers in her ear. The group have of course already set up Cooling Charms outside, but the sun persists in burning away their efforts.

Luna lies down on the grass in the Burrow's back garden, letting their words wash over her and is grateful for the small breeze Hermione produces with her wand. It is a Dumbledore's Army reunion of sorts. They try to get together, all of them, at least once a year. It is becoming increasingly difficult to schedule with their jobs; they are already restricted to school holidays, because of Neville. She suspects that soon, it will be impossible. But it is nice whilst it lasts.

"Luna, your dog is going for my mum's vegetables again."

Well. It had been nice.

"Come here, Sunbeam," she calls, wishing she had left him with her father. Sunbeam rushes over, and does a thorough job of licking her face. "Good boy."

"Why'd you name it 'Sunbeam'?" Seamus asks. They have all probably been wondering, but have likely chalked it up to one of her many eccentricities. It is handy, she finds, to be considered eccentric. You seem to have to answer to people less. She doesn't think she is really very eccentric at all, but she is in the habit of allowing people to believe what they want to believe.

"I didn't," she responds, sitting up to fill Sunbeam's bowl with water again. It is the truth. If she could rename the dog, she would. McGilligan, in one of his periods of being amused by Luna's name, had called the Crup 'Sunbeam'. Sunbeam had barked, and the name stuck. No amount of treats or pleading swayed the dog; thus, Sunbeam he remains. Luna supposes she shouldn't complain. It is in the dog's nature to be loyal, and that is precisely why he hasn't left Luna's side since she first picked him up.

There is a companionable silence now, and Luna conjures a small shade for Sunbeam. Overhead, she can see clouds passing by - a Thestral, a sheep, a school of Gulping Plimpies.

"Walkies, Sunbeam!"

Luna looks up at Ginny in dismay, torn from her cloud-watching. 'Walkies' happens to be one of the few words Sunbeam recognises, and he reacts instantly by leaping about and yipping in delight. It is _too hot_ for this, evidenced by the groans from the rest of the group.

"C'mon, Luna," Ginny says with a grin. "Walkies."

Luna drags herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her face. Trying to ignore her puppy (how can he still be jumping up and down in this weather?), she sweeps her hair back off her face, and sticks her wand in to secure it in a knot.

She thinks Ginny most likely has a reason for dragging her away from the others, and so she says nothing, happy to amble along besides her joyful dog until Ginny sees fit to break the silence. There is no telling what manner of creature they might happen upon in this weather. If they make it down to the river, she might finally catch sight of a Dabberblimp. Her father has seen evidence of them all over the area, and so it is only a matter of time before they see one. Perhaps, though, Dabberblimps are even less fond of the humidity than Luna.

"You never told me about your date with Dean."

Luna squints at Ginny, unable to ascertain anything from her friend's tone. "Did I not? Do you mind?"

"No - no, it's not that. I just thought... well, we're friends, aren't we? I thought you would have told me if you liked Dean in that way."

"I didn't think of it like that," Luna says honestly. "I guess I was trying to find out if I _did_ like him in that way."

"And?" Ginny prompts, nudging Luna.

Luna smiles, following her dog along the path to the river. "No. It was the same for Dean as well. It was fortunate, because I wouldn't have wanted to make things awkward between us."

Ginny frowns at Luna. "That's a surprise. He's liked you for ages."

Luna is disquieted by this revelation. Dean hasn't said anything to her, hasn't treated her in any manner other than their usual. The information is worse somehow coming after her realisation of her feelings for Rolf. Of course, Ginny could be wrong, but then, she is close to Dean.

As if she can sense Luna's train of thought, Ginny asks gently, "Luna? Is there someone else?"

"How did you know you were in love with Harry?" Luna enquires. It is partly a feeble way of deflecting attention, but only partly. 

They are almost by the water, and Luna calls out a warning to prevent Sunbeam diving straight in. She notices that Ginny has not answered her question immediately. Has she said the wrong thing? Ginny is usually quick to tell people when they have offended her.

"I was ten years old," Ginny says wryly. "I saw him on a station platform, and I just - was. It didn't help that no boy would come near me because of my brothers when I was younger, and then Harry went and saved my life. I tried to get over him, and eventually it turned out that I didn't need to." She picks a stick up from the ground, and throws it for Sunbeam to chase. "He asked me to marry him. Harry, that is. Ron knows, but I want to be able to tell all my brothers before we go public with it."

Luna clears her throat, finding her mouth suddenly dry. This is the beginning of it, then. When they all start to grow up. She doesn't mind, really. Not when it's Ginny. "Congratulations!" she says, flinging her arms around her oldest friend.

Ginny hugs her back, and is beaming when she pulls away. "Thanks, Luna. It's been a funny old time, hasn't it? You know, I keep thinking about that trip we had to Romania. It wasn't so long ago, really, but I feel like a different person."

"I do, too," Luna confesses. "That trip made me realise how important proof is for some people. If I could only find a Snorkack-"

"They are such secretive creatures," Ginny says solemnly. "Luna, have you seen that Rolf fellow recently?"

"Not since the final," Luna answers, picking up another stick for Sunbeam.

"I could be wrong," begins Ginny, and a sense of foreboding stirs in Luna's stomach. Could be Wrackspurts, of course. She has forgotten to put the charm on today, and she could easily have swallowed one. "But isn't that him?"

Luna drops the stick intended for Sunbeam; the pup pounces on her feet instead. She is distracted for a second, and then Rolf is _there_.

"I'll stay if you want me to," Ginny offers quietly, but Luna shakes her head. She knows it will be easier (better?) just the two of them.

Or, just the three of them. Ginny attempts to slip off with Sunbeam, but the dog puts up such a fuss at leaving Luna with a stranger that eventually, she is forced to release him. It gives the pair a focus point at least, rather than leaving them standing around awkwardly. Rolf bends down to make friends with Sunbeam, who is reluctant for a mere second before trying to lick Rolf's face off.

"Some guard dog you are," Luna remonstrates, lifting up Sunbeam. "Hostile until somebody tickles your belly, hmm?"

Rolf grins. "You can't blame the dog. I give excellent belly rubs." 

She frowns at him, because it isn't as though their fight didn't happen, and his face becomes solemn once again.

"May we sit?" he asks hopefully, indicating the grassy bank behind him. "You don't have to - you can go back to your friends whenever you like. I shouldn't have surprised you. All I meant to do was stop by your house, just to see, and your father pointed me in the direction of the Burrow."

Luna sits, letting Sunbeam curl up in her lap. Rolf will think that a Kneazle has crept away with her tongue (Luna is always very careful about protective charms when Crookshanks is nearby, though Rolf won't know that), but she cannot think of anything to say to him.

They've picked a shady spot, thankfully, because she couldn't have handled the sun much longer. Rolf looks up and down the path to check they are alone, before Transfiguring an acorn into a bowl for Sunbeam, and filling it with water.

"I'm sorry about last time, Luna. I didn't mean to interfere - I know what that's like. Granddad was always dropping in when I was at work. It took me years to be known for myself. Even now, I'm thought of as a Scamander first. And McGilligan is _good_. He trained me."

His words bring to mind Luna's own uncharitable comments, and her cheeks burn. "I'm sorry for what I said, too. I was angry, and I don't always think when I'm angry."

He chuckles. "Who does? Friends again?" Rolf sticks his hand out, and for a second, maybe because of Ginny's earlier nostalgia, Luna is transported back to that hot sticky day in Romania. She shakes Rolf's hand, conscious that hers is clammy.

Rolf doesn't release her fingers, and she finds herself looking directly into his eyes for the first time since they sat down. She swallows - he is awfully close. "Luna. I've missed you a lot. I - why don't you tell me what you've been up to?"

Luna is disconcerted, because she was sure that he had meant something else. Now, he has let go of her hand, and she can't quite figure out what has gone wrong. _This_ is what comes of leaving Wrackspurt charms on the bedside table. Daddy has tried to warn her. "Well, I got a puppy," she says, and Sunbeam wriggles about on cue, tumbling off her lap. She laughs, and some of her nerves ease. "I think Daddy likes him, really, but he was most upset when Sunbeam chewed all his Snorkack figurines. They howled at the moon together last night." The memory makes her grin; at the time, she laughed until her sides ached. Daddy was quite put out, and told her she would no longer be invited to howl with them.

"'Sunbeam'?" Rolf queries, reaching across to scratch Sunbeam behind the ear. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and it suddenly occurs to her how well travelling suits him. His hair is curling at the nape of his neck, and the Brazilian sun has tanned his skin several shades darker. "Don't tell me you let McGilligan name your dog; isn't it bad enough he calls you that?"

"How do you know McGilligan calls me Sunbeam?" Luna asks, surprised. She cannot recall seeing Rolf in the office since she was assigned to McGilligan.

There is something in Rolf's sideways glance, and something more in the way he says, "Because I ask him about you."

Wrackspurts are definitely squirming in Luna's stomach now. She isn't sure what she wants to do with this information, so she pets Sunbeam, who doesn't make any uncomfortable comments, and who definitely won't leave her for Brazil in another fortnight. Rolf busies himself in the heavy silence by plucking daisies from the ground and threading them together. 

"How do you find my notes?" He is not looking at her, but rather at the ever-growing chain in his hands.

"Messy," Luna jokes, because it is the kind of flippant remark that everybody in the office makes about Rolf's notes. She regrets it as soon as she says it, though, because it is also the kind of remark she doesn't like other people making when she wants honesty. "I think they're wonderful, Rolf. They make me feel like I'm there with you."

His fingers still, then he deftly completes the circle with a knot. "McGilligan has asked if I would consider taking you along for the rest of my trip."

The humidity is suddenly unbearable. She pulls her wand out of the tangle in her hair, and checks for Muggles. Not able to trust her voice, Luna casts a non-verbal Cooling Charm, letting her hair settle around her face. "Oh." It is close, so close to their argument before. This time, she trusts that he isn't meddling.

"He says we've worked well together in the past, and he'd like to see how you go. He says you're to continue to write up my reports, because he's damned if he's going to waste days deciphering my handwriting." Rolf runs a hand through his hair. "Luna, you know I want you with me, but if you'd still rather not, I can talk to McGilligan. See who else could take you."

Images of snakes, Curupiras, all the undiscovered animals waiting to be found in South America dance before Luna's eyes. Daddy has told her that she should be off having adventures, and she's sure he will look after Sunbeam until they get back. "Okay."

"Okay, you want me to talk to McGilligan?"

"Okay, I'll come with you," Luna corrects, pushing him gently.

He captures her hand again before she can withdraw it, his face oddly serious. Tingles spread down her arm; she is not concerned about pulling free this time. "Okay. There's something else, and I'd appreciate it if you could stay quiet whilst I'm talking, or I'm not sure I'll get to the end. If you don't want me to bring this up again, I won't, but - I like you, Luna. Ever since France, when you were feeding the Palominos. Maybe ever since Sweden, when you came out covered in mud from head to toe, and told me you didn't need rescuing."

Even if Rolf hadn't requested that she be silent, she isn't sure she could say anything to that. In Sweden, in France, she remembers disliking him intensely. All that time. It is a lot to process. She realises that in considering her own feelings, she has never thought he might reciprocate them. 

He rushes on.

"I tried not to. Merlin, I think when I was the age you are now, you would have been starting Hogwarts. I can't seem to help it, though. When we argued, I just - I can't tell you what it meant to me, that you were reading my journal entries. I wrote them for you; all of them."

"You're not very good at this," Luna says frankly, because one of them should. "I like you, too. I don't see it matters how old you were when I started Hogwarts."

A grin lights his face. "All right, Luna-my-Luna. As ever, you make an excellent point." He kneels beside her, and crowns her with the daisies. Tenderly, he tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "Let me see if I can put this any better."

Luna discovers to her delight that there are ways in which Rolf expresses himself very well indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> (Luna-my-Luna line thieved/adapted from 'Rilla of Ingleside')


End file.
